Not Alone
by Shayla17
Summary: When Neal's obsession over Kate causes a panicked night of binge drinking, Peter reminds his young partner he has someone to lean on. WARNING: CONTAINS NON-SEXUAL SPANKING OF ADULT. If you don't like this PLEASE do not bother to read or review.


**Title**: Not Alone

**Summary**: When Neal's obsession over Kate causes a panicked night of binge drinking, Peter reminds his young partner he has someone to lean on… if only Peter's reminders weren't so painful. Set a few days after the season one episode "The Portrait," but not necessarily a tag to that episode. Does contain a few spoilers to that episode though.

**WARNING**: This story DOES contain the non-sexual spanking of an adult. If you don't like this, please don't bother reading or reviewing.

**A/N**: So this is my first attempt at a White Collar story as well as my first attempt at a discipline fic so go easy on me!

**Thanks to**: Supergirl3684 for encouraging me to finish and post this fic. Thanks for all the advice and for putting up with my questions!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own White Collar, or any of the show's characters! I just love them!

* * *

><p>Neal Caffrey was drunk. No, he was more than drunk, he was drunk and miserable. It'd been a few days since he'd heard Kate's voice on the phone. He had been ecstatic and overcome with relief when he first heard her beautiful voice say his name. But after she'd insisted on knowing where he'd hidden all of the things he'd… "collected"… over the years, his relief started to fade. Of course, it disappeared completely when <em>she<em>'d disappeared again, just before he could reach her. And ever since then, his sense of panic and urgency to find her had been building to an all time high.

Neal had spent the following days practically alone in his sorrow. Sure, he still went to work, joking around and trying not to let Peter on to his misery, but as soon as he came home, he was enveloped in solitude.

June had been gone the past few nights, out to dinner every evening with a few high-class old friends, leaving Neal the house to himself. Left to his own devices, Neal spent his free time obsessing over the questions that were constantly flooding his mind. Where was Kate? Who had her? And, most importantly, why did they want what he had?

Neal had paced the length of his room, going over every plan he could think of to get the answers he wanted, but exhausted every one. Even Mozzie wasn't around to help him out; as he had been unavailable the past few days doing God knew what. This only made Neal feel even more panicked and isolated. Even when Mozzie didn't come up with any more usable ideas then he could, Neal had to admit that his old friend's ranting and metaphorical words of wisdom were comforting to him.

Neal realized that his only other option for helpful company was Peter, but he knew going to him with talk of Kate would only lead to a lecture on letting her go. And that would be worse than anything else… having to face the possibility that the older man could be right.

Still, his nights at home filled with frantic planning and crushing isolation had started to take their toll on him. Neal hadn't felt so alone and out of options since his days in prison after Kate had stopped visiting. At least then he had a working plan to go by… now, he felt as if he were all out of clues, and this scared him more than anything.

After only three nights of this torture, Neal couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the pain of being away from her, couldn't take the fear of what was happening to her, or the horrible feeling that he was helpless and failing her. He was a mess. A big mass of whirling emotions that for once he couldn't just shrug off.

So, fed up with his intense emotions, Neal had gone down to the rinky dink convenient store within his radius, and purchased a large amount of the very cheap wine he and Kate used to drink what felt like a lifetime ago.

Practically hugging the wine to him like a small child, Neal had trudged back to June's, up to his room, and, with an urgency he couldn't understand, poured the wine into the empty bottle Kate had left him. Annoyed at the tears of agony that blurred his vision, Neal tipped the bottle up and drank deeply.

Now, after going through two bottles of the stuff, Neal stared down at the once again empty bottle; the lines on the map dancing before his eyes though he could no longer tell if that was due to the tears that were still leaking out of his eyes or his lack of sobriety. Neal put his thumb against the bottle, still staring, and slowly began to stroke the map, trying hard to remember what it felt like to do so to Kate's skin.

Neal squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before snapping them back open again, and putting the bottle down on the table. He'd meant to do it gently, but it felt so incredible heavy in his hand that he clumsily knocked it over. It wobbled loudly against the hard wood of the table before rolling off and into his lap. With a frustrated sigh, he picked it up again, this time with both hands, and concentrated on putting it back on the table. This time he made sure it stayed.

With a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes yet again, feeling dizzy as he did so. For about the millionth time, he went over what he knew.

Okay, let's see… Kate had called a public phone to talk to him. She'd called it from a cell phone… okay, so? How did that help him…

Wait, didn't the FBI tap public phones sometimes? For that matter, couldn't the FBI track cell phones? Through their signals? Wait was that legal…? I mean, wasn't that like… an invasion of privacy or something? Was the FBI allowed to invade people's privacy? Well, Peter certainly invaded his enough…

Alright, where was he going with this. Neal tried hard to concentrate through his drunkenness, finding it hard not to get distracted by wayward thoughts.

Okay, so what had he been thinking? Right, the FBI could possibly be able to invade Kate's privacy… er… track the cell phone she'd called from. Of course, it didn't occur to Neal that Kate was definitely smart enough to get rid of a phone if she was trying to disappear. For that matter, she probably wouldn't have had a traceable phone at all! But nothing particularly rational was occurring to him right now. Only that the FBI may be able to help him.

Wait… didn't he know somebody from the FBI…? Patrick…Percy…Peter! Of course, Peter! His stern and lecturing warden! He was from the FBI!

Neal quickly stood up, stumbling as he did, his limbs feeling incredibly heavy and unstable. He had to get to Peter's. But as he dizzily stumbled out the front door of June's, and started down the street, a thought at the back of his mind nagged at him. Hadn't he resolved _not_ to go to Peter about Kate…?

Nah… why would he do that when Peter might be the only one that can help him find her?

So, pushing all thoughts of turning back out of his mind, Neal clumsily made his way out into the streets, hailed a cab, and headed over to Peter's place.

* * *

><p>Peter Burke sat on his couch, sipping a cup of black coffee, and going over a few case files. It was late, and Elizabeth had already gone to bed. Truthfully, Peter would have loved to join her, but he had too much on his mind to sleep. So here he sat, enjoying his coffee and trying not to think too much. He knew, though, that that was a virtually impossible task.<p>

He could've said that it was thoughts over his last case that plagued him, but that wasn't it, not really. Truth was, he was worried about Neal.

The kid had been walking around the office the past couple of days like a ghost. Despite his usual jokes, annoyingly cocky behavior, and smart ass comments, Peter knew his young partner had something heavy on his mind. And he had a sneaking suspicion that that something began with a "K".

Peter sighed deeply and put the case files on the coffee table in front of him. It didn't matter how many times he tried to lecture or reason with Neal, he just wouldn't let Kate go. He supposed that he _may_ have felt the same way if it were El… but then again, he knew that he and Elizabeth would have never been in that kind of situation.

With another heavy sigh, Peter stood, running a hand through his hair. Yeah, it was definitely time to go to bed.

He was just about to reach his bedroom door when his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. He stepped back from the door, not wanting to wake Elizabeth, and answered his phone.

"This is Burke," he answered.

"Peter," it was Jones. This couldn't be good… "Caffrey's outside his radius."

"Dammit Neal," Peter sighed, wondering what kind of trouble his young consultant had gotten himself into now. "Alright, I'm on my way." He angrily punched the "end" button on his phone, and hurried for the door. As soon as he did, however, he heard shuffling footsteps on the porch. If that was who he thought it was…

Peter swung the door open, not very surprised to see a startled, bleary-eyed, drunk-looking Neal in front of him. He leveled the younger man with an annoyed look, and motioned for him to come inside, taking his phone back out.

"Caffrey's with me," Peter told Jones, feeling a sense of Déjà vu, before immediately hanging the phone up again.

"What the hell are you doing here, Caffrey?" he demanded, closing the door and staring right at Neal who was looking very disoriented. Though Peter wasn't shocked in the least that his partner had shown up at his door, he was pretty surprised that he had done so drunk. He'd never known Neal to just go and get drunk before… was the kid really that miserable?

"Well?" Peter impatiently urged, waiting for an answer.

Neal met his eyes for a second-they were watery and rimmed with red, which surprised Peter almost as much as his intoxication-and began to open his mouth to speak. As he did though, his face turned white, and Peter knew-from plenty of past experience-what was going to happen next.

"Oh no you don't," He growled, stepping forward and taking hold of Neal's arm. "Not on this floor. El would kill me. Come on." Unceremoniously, he propelled him quickly to the bathroom. Neal reached the toilet just in time to empty his stomach into it.

Surprising Peter once again, he immediately began to cry. The older man didn't know how to respond to this! He'd never seen the man cry before, and boy, it was not a pretty sight. Neal was sitting on the floor, blubbering into the toilet, trying to talk to Peter through his tears despite the fact that he threw up a couple more times.

Peter strained to understand what he was saying, trying his hardest to sort out what in holy hell was going on, but all he could make out was some nonsense about wire taps and cell phone signals.

After emptying everything he could have possibly held in his body, Neal flushed the toilet, and staggered to his feet. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks, but he wasn't blubbering or sobbing anymore. Peter decided now would be the time to approach.

He walked over to the shaking and dizzy-looking young man, and put a firm, steadying hand on his back, leading him over to the sink. He was at a loss for words! It was clear Neal was having some sort of breakdown and he had no idea how to handle it; had no idea what he could do to help him. Well, he could at least get him cleaned up and into bed for the night. That much he could, and would, see to. Getting to the bottom of what had caused all this could wait til later.

"Come on, Buddy," he said quietly, reaching over to turn on the water. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"NO," Neal said, pulling away slightly. "No… no time… K… Kate…!"

_Right_, Peter sighed to himself. This was definitely about Kate.

"We can talk about Kate later, Neal," he said softly but firmly. "Right now, we need to get you cleaned up and into bed."

"No!" He yelled, pushing Peter away. "Not when Kate needsss… help… Help… you! You can help…!" He stumbled backward a step, farther away from Peter. The older man was quickly growing impatient.

"Neal…" he said in a warning tone that usually got his attention.

"Please…" the younger man sniffled pitifully, causing Peter's annoyance to ebb a bit.

"We'll talk later," He said again in what he hoped was a reassuring tone of voice. "I promise." Neal studied his face for a second, eyes shining, and body swaying the slightest bit. Eventually though, he decided Peter was telling the truth; nodding and slowly making his way back over to him.

With Peter's urging, he leaned over the sink, splashed his face and rinsed out his mouth with cold water, breathing hard and feeling dizzy. When he was done, Peter ushered him into the guest room and ordered him into bed. After Neal complied and got into the soft bed, Peter left the room for a few moments, promising to be right back.

Neal let out a soft sigh as he settled back onto the pillows, extremely frustrated with himself. His head was spinning, his stomach was churning, and his eyes were stinging horribly. Why did he have to be so drunk? He hadn't even gotten one word out about Kate before he'd gotten sick. And then he had started crying like a baby, humiliating himself when all he'd wanted to do was come here and speak to Peter rationally, man to man.

_He must think I came to personally ruin his night…_ he thought glumly, fighting the tiredness that was beginning to overtake him.

After a minute or so, Peter came back into the room carrying some things in his arms. Neal couldn't concentrate enough through the sleepy fog in his head to see what they were.

"I'm putting this beside your bed," Peter told him, putting something down with a thunk. "If you feel like you're going to get sick, get sick in this. El won't be happy if you ruin her carpet." Neal turned his head slightly and saw that beside his bed was a green plastic wastebasket. He looked up at Peter, trying to remember what he'd just said. Well, whatever it was, he was sure Peter wanted him to agree, so he nodded, his head spinning with the small movement.

"Whenever you wake up," Peter continued. "I want you to try and drink some water. I'm putting it on the bedside table." Again, Neal nodded, even slower this time. He heard Peter sigh.

"We'll talk about you stumbling around New York drunk and outside your radius tomorrow," he said in a hard voice. "And you are going to tell me what's got you so upset about Kate."

If Neal hadn't have been so tired and so drunk, he might've noticed the stern and authoritative tone Peter's voice had taken on, and what it meant for him. But he _was_ drunk _and _extremely tired, so he nodded his head once more and passed out, just barely aware of the blanket that was pulled over him.

* * *

><p>When Neal woke up the next morning, he wasn't sure that he'd really woken up at all. It felt more like he'd died and gone to hell. He let out a moan of pain as he squinted his eyes against the too bright light that was flooding in from the window. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate enough through the throbbing in his head, to swallow back the bile that was starting to rise at the back of his throat.<p>

"Oh Neal…" He was surprised to hear Elizabeth's soft, sympathetic voice say from the door. He opened one eye just enough to see her walk away from the doorframe and over to his bed. She sat down, looking him over with concerned eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," he managed to croak out, hoping he was laying far enough away from her that she wouldn't smell his atrocious breath.

"Oh, poor baby," she said softly, in a mothering tone. Neal liked that she was concerned for him, and gave a small shrug, wincing as he did so, and wearing his best "woe is me" look.

"Oh, cut the crap, Caffrey," Peter said sharply, entering the room with a cup of coffee. "Here. Drink this."

"Ugh," Neal replied, face contorting at the thought of anything in his stomach right now. "Don't want to."

"Cowboy up," Peter said sternly. "Drink it, Neal. You'll feel better."

The younger man gave a wary look, but took the mug in his hands and slowly brought it to his lips. At first he felt like he was going to throw his first sip right back up, but after he sipped more and more of the warm cup of caffeine, it became a lot more manageable.

Once he was done, he felt better. He definitely didn't feel like getting out of bed or anything, but he didn't feel like dying either. Peter looked satisfied that his partner had finished his whole cup without up-chucking.

"Alright, now get up and get a shower," he told him when he put his empty mug on the bedside table, next to the cup of water Peter had placed there last night.

"Can't I just rest here for a while…?" Neal whined, not liking the idea of getting into the shower just yet.

"Nope," Peter replied simply. "FBI hangover remedy: a strong cup of coffee, and a good shower. Get to it. We need to have a little heart to heart, and I don't want you distracted or feeling sorry for yourself when we do."

Neal sighed, feeling very wronged, and forced himself to get out of bed. Peter led him to the bathroom, and gave him a gentle push into it whenever he hesitated.

"You don't think you're being too hard on him?" Elizabeth asked once they heard Neal start up the shower.

"No," Peter answered, walking down to the kitchen with her.

"Honey, he's been through a lot…"

"I know," he replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "And despite all of that, he never learns. If you'll recall, he recently stole a painting because he felt justified in doing so."

"Yes, but if _you_ recall, Agent Burke, he felt bad about it! Which means at least some of what you're trying to do for him is sinking in."

"I guess so," Peter sighed, drinking his coffee. "I just wish he weren't so damned impulsive… You know what would've happened if he had decided he wanted to go after Kate last night instead of coming here? There would've been an immediate man-hunt, led by me, and he would've ended up _right_ back in prison."

"I know," now it was El's turn to sigh. She reached out and rubbed his arm, hoping to ease the tension that she saw in her husband. "You're right… but still… from what you told me, he's obviously hurting… before you go yelling at him, find out why, okay?"

"Alright," Peter agreed, turning to give her a kiss. She smiled at him, and kissed him back before pulling away and putting on her coat.

"Now, I've got to run to the office," she told him. "But I'll be back after a while. Be nice to him, Honey…"

"When am I ever not nice?"

El gave him a look, kissed him on the cheek, and left the house without saying another word. Peter looked down into his coffee, grumbling. He was nice to Caffrey…

* * *

><p>When Neal got out of the shower, he had to admit that he <em>did<em> feel a lot better. His headache had died down considerably, he didn't feel as weak as he had before, and, despite the fact that he didn't feel up to food anytime soon, his stomach wasn't churning anymore. He was grateful that Peter hadn't rushed him. Instead of pounding on the door after ten minutes, demanding that he'd been in there long enough and that he needed to get out (as Neal had half-expected him to do), the older man had let him take his time. And take his time, he did.

The shower had cleared his head, and allowed him to realize how stupid he had been last night. What had he been thinking, coming here? Had he really been that out of it, that desperate? Neal shook his head now, dressing, and feeling embarrassed as he thought about his crying over Kate right there in front of Peter. How weak he must have seemed to the older man, how stupid. Neal couldn't help but roll his eyes every time he thought of the nonsense that had led him here. To think he could find Kate through the phone she'd used to call him was ludicrous and a waste of time.

Pulling on the clean, white T-shirt someone–probably Elizabeth-had placed on his bed, Neal let out a sigh and prepared himself for his "heart to heart" with Peter. He knew he was about to go downstairs to one hell of a lecture, and he needed to make sure his emotions were in check before he did. Once he felt slightly confident that he could maintain some kind of dignity while Peter lectured him on his rash actions, he left the room and started down the stairs.

As expected, Peter was waiting for him; sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. He looked up when he heard him on the stairs, just a hint of a smile on his stern face.

"You're looking better," He noted, putting the paper on the coffee table.

"Feeling better," Neal replied, going over, and sitting beside him on the couch. However, as soon as he did, Peter stood up and sat down again on the coffee table so they were face to face. Neal resisted the urge to gulp, as his expression didn't look too friendly now.

"Let's talk about last night."

"What about it?" Neal tried to evade him by playing dumb. Peter's only response was a hard look and a raised eyebrow. Neal sighed.

"I was just a little upset, nothing I can't handle on my own," He said quietly, averting his eyes.

"You were more than just a little upset, Neal," Peter scoffed. "And it was obvious to me last night that you_ can't_ handle it on your own. Why? What's going on?"

The younger man shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

"Neal." Peter voice held a warning, telling Neal to cut the crap and answer his question. The younger man sighed.

"I talked to Kate," He admitted quietly, eyes still downcast. Peter was taken aback. When on Earth did this happen…

"When?" he demanded.

"A few days ago," Neal replied, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were focused on Peter's coffee table. "She contacted me through… well, clues. They led me to…"

"Grand Central Station," Peter finished, remembering a short conversation they'd shared during their last case. "She met you there?"

"Yeah," Neal said. "She called me on a public phone, we talked… well, mostly she talked and I listened. I saw her too… I saw her but when I tried to go to her, she just… disappeared."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again…" Neal's voice was laced with such agony, Peter could hardly stand to hear it.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Peter questioned, starting to get upset that all this had happened and he hadn't been informed. Neal finally raised his eyes to meet Peter's, giving the older man a look that said that the answer to his question should be obvious.

"I knew what you would've said," he told him, with the slightest hint of annoyance.

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah!" Neal exclaimed. "You would've told me that I was stupid for looking for Kate, and that I needed to let her go." Peter couldn't exactly argue with this…

"Alright, maybe I would have said that," he told him. "But you still could've come to me. Neal, you don't have to do these things alone, you know…" The younger man didn't reply to this, only slid his eyes back down. Peter sighed in frustration.

"Alright," he said, then, in an even sterner tone of voice, brought him back on topic. "Back to last night."

"Look, I panicked!" Neal cried, trying to justify himself. "I was all out of options."

"So you got drunk."

"Seemed like an okay idea at the time…" he muttered.

"You were also outside your radius. Again."

"Coming to your house!"  
>"Drunk." Neal gave him annoyed look.<p>

"I'm an adult, Peter" He huffed. "I'm allowed to be drunk if I want to."

"Not when it's going to put you in danger," Peter said firmly, his anger slowly building. "Not when it puts your freedom at stake."

"You really think the FBI would put me back in prison for drinking?" Neal retorted.

"Yes," Peter replied. "When it involves you halfway across the country looking for Kate!"

"I thought you could help me!" Neal said hotly, glaring at him. "I obviously wasn't thinking straight. Sober, I never would've come, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was off my rocker, and ruined your night. It won't happen again." Neal quickly got to his feet, and started for the door.

Peter was up in a second, going over and taking the young man by the arm before he could get to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, angrily. "We're not done talking."

"What else is there to say, Peter!" Neal cried, exasperated and just wanting to go home.

Peter was about to tell him, none too gently, exactly what else there was to say when he saw that the kid had tears in his eyes. He was staring at the door, but Peter could see them, threatening to spill out onto his cheeks.

"Neal…" he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Peter," He interrupted, his voice nearly a whisper. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden, I… I just needed to talk to someone last night and… I don't know. I had to try, Peter, for her… I just had to. But I'm not even worth her anymore! Not really worth anything… I'm just alone, Peter… I really am…"

Then, though his arm was still in Peter's grip, he covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by his emotions and how they had just flooded out of his mouth without warning. He blamed his lack of judgment and control on his hangover.

Without letting him go, Peter looked at him, long and hard, trying to figure it out. _Nothing_ got through to the kid! Not threats, not lectures, not even prison! He had literally just spelled it out for him, told him that he didn't have to go through these things on his own and yet here he stood, broken and claiming to be alone in the world. And a burden, yeah, that's what he said too… that he was a burden.

Oh, this nonsense had to end. Now. And Peter was going to end it if it was the last thing he did.

Before Neal knew what was happening, he was dragged over to the couch by Peter and sat down, none too gently.

"Listen up, Neal, no, look at me. I want your full and undivided attention."

Neal reluctantly looked up at the FBI agent that looked like a severe mix of concerned and pissed.

"I'm not going to put up with this self-loathing crap anymore," he said in a firm voice. "You've made a lot of poor decisions in your life, Neal, but none of those are deserving of the hate I'm seeing in you right now. You're not worthless, ok? And you are certainly not a burden. What's happening with Kate… it's not your fault. And you need to accept that. And you also need to understand that burying your feelings or drinking away your problems is not the way to deal with them. And if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make you think twice about doing those things again. I'm going to make you realize, once and for all, that you're not alone here. You have people around you, Neal, people that care about what happens to you. June, Elizabeth… hell, even me. I'm here for you, Neal… and I'm starting to care about you too much to let you throw your life away. Get up."

Neal slowly did, confused as to what was going to happen next.

Before Peter could talk himself out of what he was about to do, he sat down on the couch in Neal's stead, and quickly pulled the younger man across his lap.

Neal's eyes widened when his torso made contact with Peter's knees. What the hell…?

"What are you doing?" He cried, trying to push himself out of this awkward position.

"Trying something new," Peter answered, wrapping an arm around Neal's waist to help control the younger man's squirming. "No matter what I do, you never listen. Maybe if I try this, you will."

"Try what exactly?" Neal was beginning to panic as Peter adjusted him on his lap. "Peter, I'm not really comfortable with-OW!"

Without any kind of warning, Peter's hand connected with Neal's upturned backside. Neal's struggles intensified when he realized what exactly was happening. Peter swatted him again.

"Be still," he instructed, attempting to control the now writhing man that was over his lap. When Neal continued to struggle, Peter landed another swat, this one a little bit harder. Neal let out a cry before he could stop himself, and slowed his struggling, hoping that would appease the man who obviously had him pinned.

"I refuse to let this happen to you, Neal," Peter said firmly, emphasizing with sharp swats to the young man's backside. "I refuse to see you go back to prison because of your inability to control your impulses."

Neal bit his lip, tears already spilling out of his eyes. He couldn't believe Peter would do this to him. Couldn't believe Peter actually cared enough to do this to him. And most of all, he couldn't believe the truth in the older man's words.

"You will _not_ get drunk again," Peter instructed, increasing the intensity of his swats, causing Neal to cry out. "I don't care if you're an adult or not. That is a slippery slope, and I refuse to let you go down it."

Neal let out his first sob, the burning in his backside building to unbearable levels.

"You will start talking to me, Neal," Peter continued. "When something like this happens, I don't want you to try to deal with it on your own, you come to me and we will work it out together. You got me?"

The younger man nodded, unable to talk around his tears.

"And lastly," Peter tipped Neal forward, prepared to wrap up the spanking by targeting his sit spots. "You" **SWAT** "are" **SWAT** "_not_" **SWAT** "a burden." **SWAT SWAT** "And I do _not_ want to hear you say that you are again, do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" Neal gasped, wanting desperately for the spanking to end, wanting desperately for Peter to forgive him. "P-please, Peter...! I'm sorry!"

Peter nodded, hearing the sincerity in his friend's apology, and ceased his onslaught on his backside, shaking his hand out a little bit. Neal stayed over Peter's lap for a minute, trying to control his sobs. Peter let him, and surprised himself by running a hand over the young man's back, rubbing soothingly and murmuring words of comfort to the young man he was beginning to think of as family.

After a few minutes, Neal calmed down enough to realize that he was humiliating himself, and quickly got up off of Peter's lap, blushing furiously and rubbing the last of his tears out of his eyes.

Peter watched the childlike gesture with an amused smile, and waited for Neal to gingerly sit down next to him.

"I should tell Elizabeth you physically assaulted me," he grumbled, though there was no real anger in his tone. Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm serious about everything I said, Neal," Peter said seriously, causing Neal to look over at him. "From this point on, I' m not going to put up with it anymore. And if I feel I need to, I will do this again. Whatever it takes to make you listen. You got that?"

Neal stared at him for a moment. He knew Peter well enough to know that if he truly protested, he wouldn't do it again. But... maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone there for him. Someone that was stable and would hold him accountable for his actions. Slowly, hoping he was making the right decision, Neal nodded his understanding.

Peter smiled at the younger man, glad that he wasn't going to fight him on this new arrangement, and tousled his hair.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "Let's get ready for work."

And that day, while Neal sat at his desk, squirming to find a comfortable position, he realized that he really wasn't alone. If only his backside hadn't had to learn that lesson for him.

THE END

**A/N**: So there it is. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it, but it's my first one so I'm sure I'll improve as I go along. And if it seems like Neal is a bit out of character... Idk, I've always thought that Neal is more emotionally fragile than he lets on. I tried to show that in the story. Ok, so, tell me what you think! And thank you for reading.

-Shay


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